


Irony

by redkay



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redkay/pseuds/redkay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not love, not really.  He thinks love would probably be easier.</p><p>Spoilers up to 3x11</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irony

**3\. In your own words, define irony.**

No one’s ever accused Mickey of being a sentimental asshole, but he remembers the first time he fucked Ian Gallagher like it was yesterday.

Remembers the kid poking him with a tire iron, his voice cracking slightly with the knowledge that no one breaks into the Milkovich house and leaves with all their limbs in tact.

Remembers slamming him into a wall, and the choked laugh when he realizes the kid fights as dirty as him.

Remembers pinning him to the bed, about to bash his head in, and seeing that wild, hungry look in his eyes, the one he sees when he looks into the mirror.

Remembers looking at this fifteen year old boy who practically climbed into his bed, pulsing with adrenaline and want, and thinking _this, this will be the easiest fucking lay of my life._

But he’s not about to write any of that shit down, so he just balls up the English test and tosses it in the bin on his way out.

(He only showed up because Gallagher was talking about re-enrolling anyway, and yeah, his life is just littered with fucking irony)

 **

Linda wasn’t exactly thrilled with Mickey’s return to the store, but Gallagher vouches for him with so much pathetic earnestness that she agrees, eventually. He could probably make more money laying tar but there’d be fewer fuck breaks, so Mickey eats his losses. 

The whole thing is so eerily similar to last summer that Mickey sometimes wonders if he’s dreaming it, except for that’d be completely gay. 

It’s not that he thought about it much, but there wasn’t a lot to do in juvie other than work out and stare at walls. So yeah, maybe it occurred to him that Gallagher might be a bit pissed off about the way they left things, because he’s a pussy like that. The fact that he didn’t visit him once, not that he wanted him to, didn’t help.

So he was pleasantly surprised when all it took was a quick beatdown of the faggot Gallagher was fucking before they got back to business.

And maybe that should have been his first clue, because all that innocent shit aside, Gallagher was really a vindictive fucker.

If anyone asked, well, he’d probably have to kill them for knowing. But before that, he might say that he only followed them to keep an eye on that old pervert. After all, he’d been denied the chance to beat on one pedo earlier so he was owed this. 

That didn’t really account for the warm feeling in his gut when Gallagher ran with him, leaving his sugar daddy bleeding on the ground, but whatever.

His neck hurts like a bitch where Gallagher hit him and his knuckles are sore but he feels lighter than he has in months. There’s always been something addictive about Gallagher, something intoxicating about being his first choice even when he’s not the only one.

**

“Did you ever tell Mandy about us?” Gallagher asks one day while restocking the shelves, like it’s actually a fucking question. Mickey just glares at him until Gallagher rolls his eyes.

“Are you ever gonna?” 

“Fuck no,” he says, flipping through a magazine. 

It gets really loud then, like he can hear every bit of paper crinkling, every metal can being slid on the shelf, and it sort of reminds him of that time he dropped acid with his brother. It takes him a while to realize that it’s because Gallagher’s not talking, just stacking cranberry sauce with more hostility than it really requires. 

Fuck if he’s about to play into this tantrum though. There are rules and Gallagher knows that.

“Lip knows.”

“What?” He’s out of his seat in an instant, but Gallagher doesn’t look worried. He never was half as afraid of Mickey as he should have been. “When the fuck did he find out?”

“I told him back when you were in juvie. The first time.” 

Mickey wants to rage, wants to throw something at Gallagher’s smug face, but he can’t even find it in himself to be surprised. It’s more like confirmation of something he’s known for a while but didn’t want to admit. Of course Lip knows; Lip knows everything. And Lip may be an asshole, but he’s not as dumb as Frank, he won’t tell anyone.

So when he says, “I don’t want you going around telling people my business,” it doesn’t have the effect he was aiming for. 

“You should tell Mandy. She won’t give a shit, you know that.” She would, but Gallagher is too oblivious to realize why, and besides, that’s not the point. 

Mickey scoffs; even if Mandy wouldn't cut off his balls with a fucking can opener he'd still never tell her. When it's just them it doesn't matter, he never has to think about what anything means. Once other people know, everything goes to shit and he's got the bullet wound and two stints in juvie to prove it. No, as soon as he tells Mandy it'll stop being easy and start being real. Based on the way Gallagher doesn’t meet his eyes for the rest of their shift, he thinks he knows that too.

**

Mickey isn’t stupid, or at least not at everything. He knows whatever they have going isn’t just fucking to Gallagher, that he’s getting attached, had been attached practically since their dicks touched, rutting and awkward before they found their rhythm. 

And sometimes, when he’s really drunk or really fucking bored, he can admit that Gallagher isn’t just a warm mouth, although he does suck cock like nobody’s business. 

It’s not love, not really. Love would be easier, probably. He knows how to handle love, how to beat up the bastards that hurt his sister, how to make sure his dad doesn’t choke on his own vomit after a bender, how to dump evidence before the cops show up for his brothers.

No, he thinks when Gallagher is yanking his shirt over his head after a quickie in the storeroom, talking about some shit his little brother did that morning, or when he laughs at some stupid joke Mickey cracks, his eyes crinkling at the corners, or when they wander around the baseball field at night trading stories about people from the neighborhood they’ve fucked (and no way is Mickey ever believing Roger Spikey gave it up to a scrawny eight-grader), no, it’s much worse than love, something he has no clue how to deal with.

Cause Mickey can honestly say he’s never really liked anyone before.

**

The first time they kiss isn’t that memorable. He knows he shouldn’t, that it’s a terrible idea, but Mickey’s always been best at those so he does it anyway.

He does it because he spent two hours building that obstacle course on the roof with Gallagher on a hot as balls day, and the asshole is still fucking that old guy.

He does it because Gallagher practically threw down a fucking gauntlet, and Milkoviches don’t back down from a challenge.

He does it because he knows it’s what Gallagher wants, and that if he doesn’t get it from Mickey it’s only a matter of time before he’ll get it from someone better.

He does it because even though Mickey knows he’s never going to be his boyfriend, or take him to prom, or tell his fucking sister that they’re seeing each other, he’s not ready to give this up yet.

He does it because he’s always sort of wondered what it would be like, and even though it’s quick and Gallagher tastes of cigarette smoke and toothpaste he doesn’t feel disappointed.

After everything goes down, after the beatings and the baby and the marriage, Mickey still thinks kissing Ian Gallagher was the most selfish thing he’s ever done.

**

He doesn’t remember much from the weeks following Terry catching them. He drinks himself into a stupor most days, and when he doesn’t he sleeps or shoots. 

If he were a better man, he’d probably never be able to get the sight of Gallagher’s bloody face out of his mind, or forget the sound of the crack of his jaw. But he’s not, so the whole thing is just a vague blur and some days he can convince himself it didn’t happen at all.

He finally starts feeling something approaching human about a week before the sham of the wedding is set to take place. He hasn’t seen Gallagher since he left him lying on his back on the field. 

Honestly, he’s not that fussed about the wedding. He can’t even remember the name of the girl, but she’s not horrid, and it’s keeping his dad off his back. And really, if living in this hellhole for eighteen years didn’t stop him from taking it up the ass, a piece of paper probably won’t do it either.

Which is why he really doesn’t get why Gallagher is so upset about it. The guy practically only fucks married men, like its some sort of kink. He’s not surprised that he’s crashing the wedding, and the fact that his face has healed makes it easier to look him in the eye for the first time in months.

Gallagher’s voice is soft and desperate, begging him not to go through with the marriage. Mickey knows what he’s asking, knows because Gallagher lives in this fucking fantasy land where there are happy endings and people get to have everything they want, exactly how they wanted it.

Their second kiss is better than the first, filled with anger and bitterness and regret. There’s nothing innocent about it, and for a moment Mickey hates himself for what he’s doing, but then Gallagher bites down hard on his lower lip and all thought flies out the window.

He leaves him to go get married to a Russian whore whose name he has scribbled on his palm in smudged ink and he even manages to half-convince himself Gallagher’ll be there waiting when he gets back.

He’s not, of course, since he’s too busy getting drunk at the reception. Mickey leaves early with his wife to ‘get a head start on his honeymoon,’ his dad says with a leer, and doesn’t look at the mess he’s left behind.

**

They spend a couple days at a cheap motel chain smoking and watching The Deadliest Catch. Svetlana tries to fuck him once or twice, but he just pushes her off and she never makes a fuss.

When he gets back the house is quiet. His dad took his brothers on another run out of town, and Svetlana wanders from room to room, inspecting her new home. 

Mandy finds him a few hours later, smoking on the back porch. She sits down next to him, plucking the cigarette out of his mouth and taking a drag.

“Remember when we were kids?” she says after a long silence. “And you used to rip the heads off my dolls and throw my new clothes in the toilet?" He taps out an absent pattern on the broken wood of the porch. Mandy takes after their mother; when she gets really pissed she doesn't scream, she goes quiet and vicious, and he braces himself for the blow. "Whenever I had anything nice, you just had to destroy it.”

She laughs bitterly and passes the cigarette back before standing up. “I actually thought you outgrew that.”

The door slams behind her, and Mickey doesn’t move. Mandy knows, then. Which makes it real.

It doesn’t feel any different.

**

The thing is, it doesn’t even fucking matter.

Gallagher might throw a tantrum for a couple weeks, but he’ll get over it and they’ll be back to fucking before the baby is born. Hell, now that he’s married he’ll probably have more freedom to do what he likes.

He’ll give it some time before showing up at the Kash and Grab, cracking a joke and waiting for Gallagher to fall back into old habits. Everything will go back to normal, just like it always does, for a little while at least. 

But that boy who visited him in juvie, who talked endlessly of going to West Point, who laughed and chased him down a street and kissed him like he thought it would make a fucking difference, that boy was dead, buried in a basement of the reception hall. 

But why should Mickey care? He’ll still get laid, and that’s all he wanted out of this to begin with anyway.


End file.
